


Of Ghosts and Valkyries: Final Flight of the Furies

by Furiyan



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Cameo!Anna, Cameo!Jack Frost, Tearjerker, The Jelsa tag is only so it's kept in the subsection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furiyan/pseuds/Furiyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2070, there were three teams: the Ghosts, the Spirits and the Furies. In 2073, only the Ghosts were left. This is the story of the Furies, their leader Belle, and the ill-fated rescue mission where they met the Valkyries. Pre/midquel spinoff, set nine months after OGaV's prologue "The Fireweaver". Oneshot, contains violence and adult language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ghosts and Valkyries: Final Flight of the Furies

**Of Ghosts and Valkyries: Final Flight of the Furies**

_Date: February 9th, 2071_

_**I. Kozmotis is Useless at French** _

As she walked the lengthy corridor toward Kozmotis' quarters, she could hear the music echoing throughout the _Star's_ metal veins. Brass instruments flowed seamlessly with string. Notes danced through the air like fireflies in a cool breeze, a simple melody that when brought together swelled her heart with courage and pride. When her footsteps took her right to his door, the buildup to the symphony's crescendo shook the walls and floor with the deafening volume. Peering around into his quarters, the door having been uncharacteristically left open, Belle watched Kozmotis as he sat, wholly immersed in the music. He was leaning back into the chair by his desk, elbows on the rests while his fingers formed a pyramid, legs crossed with his right ankle over his left knee, and eyes closed... and to her surprise, what looked like a thin tear slid down from his right eye. She knew Kozmotis loved his music as much as she loved her books, though there was ample room in his heart for _them,_ too.

She waited half a minute for the crescendo to run its course, feeling the vibration of the thunderous drums quickly fade. Once her voice could conceivably be heard - albeit at a louder volume than she'd ordinarily use - she said, "It's a beautiful piece of music."

Kozmotis' eyes snapped open with a start. His head whirled toward her, and he didn't bother to mask the surprise. "Belle? How long have you been standing there?" He leaned down and quickly turned off the music player.

"Not long." She moved to stand in front of the doorway and held her hands behind her back. " _Puis-je entrer?"_

Kozmotis blinked.

Belle smiled and elegantly laughed. "May I come in?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You know I don't like it when you use a language I don't understand."

"Je suis désolé."

Kozmotis glared. "Stop it."

Belle laughed and held up her hands in surrender as she stepped through the doorway. "I'll stop now."

"Good," Kozmotis said. "So, what can I do for you?"

"How was today's lesson?"

As Kozmotis spoke, she cast an interested eye over his quarters. The bed was impeccably made, almost neurotically so. Books of all descriptions, from fiction to nonfiction, the Bible to the British Encyclopaedia adorned the two shelves above his head in what Belle could only assume as chronological order. Trinkets and historical objects sat in pride of place on his desk, items he would pick up and keep whenever the Ghosts were on the mainland.

Belle's eyes returned to and lingered on _Anna Karenina._ She had been meaning to ask Kozmotis if she could borrow it to read on her downtime - she was one of the few people he would ever consider letting near his artifacts, stating that it was her respect for books that meant he would trust her with them. Though they differed a lot, including in their opinion of humanity - Kozmotis took a dim view of normals and believed that humanity had plenty of chances to learn from its history, whereas Belle believed there was goodness in the heart of mankind - it was in literature they had common ground.

"As well as can be expected," he said, "considering the new arrival."

Belle smiled knowingly. "Yes. Mademoiselle Anna Snowfield. I heard she was rather emphatic in ensuring you rethought your opinion of her."

Kozmotis' hand instinctively went up to cover his nose. Protectively so. "You could say that," he said, quickly moving his hand back down when he noticed her amused look. He folded his arms and gave her a curious eye. "As a leader, what do _you_ think of her?"

Belle tilted her head once, shrugging slightly as a garnish. "In my literature lessons, she has been interested. Eager, even. It's as though the world before Unity is something she can't get enough of."

"And as a person?"

Belle opened her mouth to answer, but the sounds of panting and heavy running steps echoed throughout the corridor. She leaned back to peer out, and chuckled at the cosmic sense of timing when Anna, followed closely by Jack who was throwing out encouraging words as they jogged past. Jack beamed at Belle and gave her a thumbs up.

"I would say she is a good person. A little hot-headed and in need of experience, but a good person. Especially as she recently took the Ghost oath, non?" Belle said once the two joggers were out of earshot.

Kozmotis glowered. "You heard about that, did you?"

" _Mais bien sûr, mon ami,"_ Belle said, noting with delight how Kozmotis' eyes flashed with annoyance. "The recruitment of someone into the oldest team is a cause for celebration, non?"

"Clearly," Kozmotis said, slowly and suspiciously, "though I doubt this was a social call as you are wearing your field gear and carrying _Rosepetal_ , though I confess I don't know why you have a rose in your vest."

Belle followed Kozmotis' gestures down her body and gave a self-effacing chuckle. Kozmotis was right; the presence of her utility vest and cargo pants, in addition to her rapier _Rosepetal_ slung at her hip _,_ was a dead giveaway for the _real_ reason she dropped by. The flower in her upper breast pocket, however, warranted explanation. "It was a gift from little Jamie. He was so enthralled with _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ despite most of the language going over his head, that he asked Neve to grow a rose for me. I think he may have a crush. Perhaps I am Hermia, and he is Lysander?"

"Or Bottom," Kozmotis quipped, earning him a light slap on the shoulder.

Belle giggled lightly, but as her smile fell so did her humour. "And as for the clothes, I came by to tell you that the Furies and I are travelling on the _Charles de Gaulle_ to the mainland, in about an hour's time." As soon as she finished speaking, Kozmotis frowned.

"Why?"

"Two days ago, we lost contact with Scout Team Blue. Every effort to re-establish contact with them failed - until this morning."

"What happened?"

Belle leaned against his desk and folded her arms. Kozmotis' eyes flicked down, but he said nothing. "Our informant in Settlement Twenty-Nine contacted us this morning with information about their disappearance, but he will only talk in person. I'm taking the Furies to find out what he has to say, and bring our people home," she said.

"It sounds like a trap," Kozmotis said brusquely.

Belle's lips quirked, and she inclined her head once, conceding the point. "Indeed it does - but if the information is true and we do nothing, we would be abandoning our responsibility to Scout Team Blue."

"Understood," Kozmotis said. Belle looked up at him as his eyes took on an uncharacteristically concerned look. "Just be vigilant, please."

Belle smiled. "Merci, Kozmotis. However, there is another reason I came to see you. I wanted to tell you I will still be here for our weekly book discussion tomorrow evening." She jokingly waggled a finger at him. "You don't get out of telling me your opinion of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ that easily."

The corner of Kozmotis' lips curled up the faintest inch - which was as good a smile as anyone was likely to get. There had been rumours around the ship that he considered Belle a kindred spirit, someone able to understand literature and the value of history as much as he. "Tomorrow evening, then."

Belle's smile widened. "Good. Well, I shall leave you to your music, though I must say - I've never seen you moved to tears before," she said as her lips took on a wry curl.

Kozmotis frowned in confusion for a second, before evidently noticing the dried up trail on his right cheek. He scowled, and his hand shot up to wipe it away as rapidly as he could. "I don't cry," he snapped vehemently, "so you must have imagined them."

Belle's body trembled with giggles, and she shook her head in exasperation as she pushed herself off the table and moved toward the doorway. "If you say so, Kozmotis." She stopped just before passing through and looked at him over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow, seven o'clock in the mess hall."

"Seven o'clock," Kozmotis repeated. As she walked out into the corridor, she heard him call out, "Belle?"

She turned. "Yes?"

Stood in his doorway, his mouth opened and remained so for a few seconds, as though unsure of what to say. She watched as his mind worked, the cogs turning, and her expectant curiosity only grew. He was never so lost for words - until, he seemed to settle on something. "Bonne chance, Beauty."

She beamed. Her hands rose to clap approvingly. "Très bien, Pitch! Very good. Thank you."

Kozmotis bowed his head slightly and returned to his quarters. Belle continued on to the hangar deck where the _Charles de Gaulle_ waited, her heart alternately bright with camaraderie yet tinged with uncertainty. Scout Team Blue's disappearance had set enough alarm bells off in her mind, and the sudden contact by one of their informants had only intensified the noise. Still, if there was every chance the scouts needed their help, they were honour-bound to oblige.

Even if she had a bad feeling about it.

* * *

_**II. Silence and Emptiness** _

_Rosepetal_ tapped against the back of her left thigh with every step her left foot took. She held her stun-rifle a little tighter, and took in a deeper breath through her nose - after days of the Atlantic's pervasive saltwater smell, fresh land air was a gift.

Having left the _Charles de Gaulle_ in standby mode a mile and a half away, Belle led the Furies; McKenzie "Blink" Ellis the speedster; Linsey "Zap" Harris and Jules "Clarity" Vratanski, two blonde women with the powers of electrokinesis and hydrokinesis, respectively; Dwight "Shriek" Jackson, an African-American man with sonic screams; Aziz "Fade" Hassan, a swarthy-skinned man whose mere touch induced necrosis to any living organism - therefore, he wore gloves at all times - and her raven-haired, paralysis-by-touch second-in-command Melanie "Stick" Johansson toward the abandoned high school two miles north of the settlement. Seth, the settlement's Archon and their informant, told them to meet him there as soon as they landed, where he would take the team to where Scout Team Blue had been hiding for the past two days.

"Think they're okay?" Linsey asked. She was someone not prone to panic, but hopeless at hiding her emotions - so the uncertainty in her voice did little to help the mood of the team.

Belle looked up at the school as they approached. She couldn't believe that once upon a time it housed hundreds of young students, some not much older than those in her literature classes. The windows were shattered, jagged patterns of glass pointlessly kept in place by their frames. The flagpole had no rectangle of pride floating in the cool evening breeze. The carpets of grass at either side of the entry path just in front of the main doors, left untended for decades, sprawled their millions of thin, long, green fingers in every direction.

It was empty, lifeless, and in its hollow vacancy lay pervasive, crushing silence that was more deafening than any noise her classes could conjure before she would walk into the room.

"We're walking into a spooky, weird old school, two miles away from civilisation, responding to probably the shadiest clue I ever heard of. What do _you_ think?" Aziz drawled. There was a sudden yelp, and Belle internally chuckled at the knowledge that, though he chose not to speak, Dwight most likely elbowed him in the side as a non-verbal reprimand.

McKenzie was next to speak, and as befitting his ability to run and fight at twice the speed of a normal, he was like a machine-gun on full-auto. "Soifit'sclearlyanambushwhyarewespringingit?"

Quiet clamouring broke out behind Belle in hushed whispers. "Because," she said loudly and abruptly, silencing the arguing, "the alternative is that it's not a trap, and Team Blue need our help."

"And if it is?" Melanie asked, from behind and to her right.

"Then we spring the trap." Quiet gasps and hitches of breath were audible behind her, and the air of uncertainty thickened. Belle rolled her right shoulder to assuage the ache that had been there since they left the settlement with Seth and let loose a lengthy breath through her nose.

Aziz scoffed. "That kind of thing I'd expect from Shrek, not you," he pointed out, a little too accusingly for Belle's liking.

She turned to address the group as soon as she reached the school's entrance path. "The fact remains, Fade, that something happened to Team Blue. None of the other scout teams know anything about it, so if we have to spring a trap to find out who or what is responsible and why, so we can warn the _Star_ and never let it happen again, then so be it. Something tells me that what we learn will dictate the future of our kind."

Linsey's eyes fell, yet every other face was etched with sombre resolve. Belle forced a smile onto her face, hoping like hell it would inspire confidence and morale, and gripped Linsey's left shoulder with her left hand. "Make no mistake, you are the finest men and women I've had the privilege to fight alongside, and I have every belief we have the strength and courage to make it out of here."

There were a few seconds of pause while her words settled, a pause Aziz broke with a breezy, "Well, I don't know about the rest of you jokers, but now I feel like taking on an _Odin_ tank."

Belle silently laughed, squeezed Linsey's shoulder and turned to carry on up the path. As she looked up, Seth, whose dirty overcoat was wrapped around his chest, averted his eyes and looked down. He reached out to the handle of the left door and wrenched it open before wordlessly entering the darkened hallway and disappearing into the black. "That was rude," Melanie said, huffing. "I'm not voting for _him_ anymore."

* * *

_**III. Enter the Valkyries** _

As if the school's exterior, with its shattered windows, imposing height and overgrown vegetation wasn't eerie, the interior made it downright sinister and borderline supernatural. The breeze was turned into a dark wind by the open windows and winding corridors, howling its way within the school's walls. Each footstep echoed with crunches and snaps from the debris strewn across the floor, bits of glass and rock that spiked the tension every time they made a sound underfoot. The circles of light cast by seven rifle-mounted flashlights intensified the crushing darkness rather than chased it away, and whenever Belle's light travelled from open door to dirty green locker, she expected some vicious clawed demon or rabid Reaper to leap out from a classroom and lunge for her. When she listened hard, she could almost hear the laughing of a hundred ghostly students as they milled throughout the corridors, and the exasperated voices of their teachers desperately trying to maintain order. As a teacher herself, the dead school clawed at her soul like a shadowy tendril, keeping her vigilance _and_ her adrenaline at an all-time high.

It didn't help that Aziz started to recite a poem. One close to Belle's heart, yet wasn't helping the current mood of anxiety nor apt for the situation.

"Cannon to right of them. Cannon to left of them. Cannon in front of them volley'd and thunder'd," he said. "Storm'd at with shot and shell. Boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell, rode the six hundred," he murmured.

It was too much for Linsey. "Fade! Will you _stop_ that?!" she hissed.

Jules, with her inimitably husky voice, chuckled darkly. "Easy there, Zap. It's only a poem."

Linsey was unmoved. "Yeah, well, why don'tcha recite something nice for a change?"

Belle wasn't one to tease people, especially her subordinates, but sometimes the opportunity was irresistible. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore - while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping..."

Aziz snickered quietly and continued the teasing. "As of someone gently rapping," he said, and then brought his flashlight up under his chin to cast his visage in a terrifying underglow as he stared wildly at Linsey's increasingly worried face, "rapping at my chamber door…"

"Stop it!"

"Tis some visitor, I muttered, tapping at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more…" Belle finished and cast a look over her shoulder. Linsey looked terrified.

"You know," she squeaked faintly, "Can I have the _Charge of the Light Brigade_ again? It's a little less scary than Edgar Allan fucking Poe!"

"I bet you wish you skipped my classes, Zap," Belle said.

"I hate you."

The entire team jumped - even Belle, her heart shooting into her throat much to her chagrin - when the main doors banged shut behind them. Six stun rifles were whirled round and brought to bear on the entrance far at the other end of the corridor. Belle peered down the sights, her weapon held still and her finger steady against the trigger, and she even had to focus her mind on her marksmanship training five years ago - _calm, regular breathing, exhale when you shoot, squeeze, don't pull._

Each Fury held themselves as still as possible.

Not a single breath.

.

.

"Thecoastisclear!"

Belle _just about_ stopped herself from shrieking in fright though she swore she jumped a foot off the floor. "Merde!" she hissed, and whirled around to face McKenzie, who stared at them with slightly widened eyes and a somewhat bewildered expression.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" Melanie snarled, and marched over to whap her hand up the back of his head, making him yelp and flinch. "You asshole, Blink!"

Massaging the back of his head, McKenzie's eyes darted between each face glaring back at him. Dwight looked about ready to tear his head off. "What? WhatdidIdo?"

"You nearly gave us all a heart attack, that's what," Melanie snapped. "So what were you trying to say?"

"Iranaroundtheschool," he said. "NohostilesthatIcouldsee."

"Maybe this isn't a trap, and Seth's actually on the level," Aziz remarked. "Speaking of our weasel, where is he?"

"I'm here."

Belle looked up, over McKenzie's head. True enough, Seth was waiting at the entrance to a room three doors down on the left, his artificial torch held aloft. Illuminated by the light, there was a sign above and behind him that read _Music Hall._

"Furies, on me," Belle ordered in a whisper. She lowered her rifle halfway and slowly crept on to the music hall, six crunching footsteps following her. Part of her was amazed McKenzie even _knew_ how to be slow.

As they pulled up to the door, Seth held one of them open with his left arm and pressed himself against it to give them space to move past him. Belle instantly swivelled on her heel and shone the light behind the doors. No clone soldiers, nothing but dusty walls. She moved the light up and along the ceiling, across the remarkably intact frosted-glass windows directly opposite the door, and along the floor where chairs lay upended and musical instruments were scattered all over, gathering a thick layer of dust. Her stomach prickled; decades ago, mouths and fingers would have all come together to create a symphony, not silence.

"The dais!" Melanie hissed.

Belle turned her light toward her second-in-command's voice, and then with it she followed both her gaze and her finger to where seven men and women were tied with rope to chairs in a line, still wearing their camouflage fatigues, their heads slumped to the point their chins touched their chests. She recognised the head of mousey hair belonging to their leader, Rick "Shark" Waldorf.

Scout Team Blue.

"Mon Dieu…" she whispered, her rifle lowering in shock.

Linsey darted up the two steps of the dais and rapidly reached the closest scout to assess them. She was just putting her fingers to his wrist when Melanie backtracked to stand at Belle's side, and murmured, "Tied up and on display, where everyone is supposed to look. I guess it's safe to say it."

"Trap," Aziz muttered. Dwight agreed with a quiet grunt as he moved to stand beside Melanie, his eyes on the door.

Belle exhaled a long breath through her nose. "Dwight, bring Seth to me, please," she asked.

The mute-by-intent man nodded. He marched over to the comparatively wiry Archon who was backing out of the room. Seth was paralysed by the sight of the huge Fury advancing on him, and a yelp escaped his mouth as Dwight grabbed him by the back of his coat collar and practically dragged him across the room to stand before Belle. She studied him closely, unblinkingly, watching as he desperately tried not to meet her gaze yet couldn't stop himself from glancing up at her eyes every few seconds. He looked like someone had taken a dictionary, skipped to the term ' _guilty'_ , and stuck a his picture under it.

"You betrayed us," Belle said solemnly.

He momentarily looked at her in shock, as though he couldn't believe she said such a thing, but looked away again. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Why did you betray us?" Melanie asked through gritted teeth.

Seth screwed up his face, far beyond a mere wince. It was like the word _betray_ physically wounded him, tore at his heart. "They threatened me. They found out Team Blue was coming to meet me, and told me if I didn't agree to lure you here, I would be sent to the prison camps and never see my wife and child again."

Belle closed her eyes and slowly took a breath, feeling her anger soften much to her frustration. Seth betrayed them. She _should_ have been screaming bloody murder at him, but he was as much of a puppet as they were. She knew he didn't _want_ to call them. She whispered, "How long do we have?"

"Two minutes, maybe less."

Five mouths parted to exhale five shaky breaths at the same time. Breaths of resignation, and dread. Linsey was, if one could call it lucky, as she was too busy assessing the scouts' health. She moved onto the furthest person, a short, stocky woman called Helen, and pressed two fingers against her wrists. Belle looked up at her as she waved to get their attention, and she added some measure of relief when she said, "They're alive. Unconscious, but alive."

Belle said nothing. She looked back down at the shrinking Archon. "Who did this to them?"

"They're called the Valkyries. Four women, highly trained. Wore masks. Ambushed your scouts when they were travelling through my settlement... it was like nothing I had ever seen. They were unstoppable. Ruthless. Team Blue didn't stand a chance. Rick begged for mercy, but their leader Snow Queen just shot him with her stun pistol. Kept saying something about someone called Frost."

Belle furrowed her brow and cocked her head slightly. What could this Snow Queen possibly have against Jack, to warrant taking down the scout team? She mentally pushed the question aside - deductions weren't exactly appropriate given the circumstances. "So what do we do, chief?" Aziz said. Belle glanced at him, and saw how his body rocked back and forth, tensed like a violin string, rifle pointed at the entrance doors.

"We fight."

There were no sighs of disappointment, no murmurs of dread. Each member of the Furies knew that it would be wholly immoral to leave Scout Team Blue behind while they attempted to make their escape when there was every possibility they _could_ make it out victorious. She looked at each pair of eyes staring back at her, even Aziz's when he turned his head round to make sure she wasn't joking, and especially McKenzie's as he paced the area between them and the huge windows in agitation. He didn't seem scared in the slightest, however, merely eager to fight. Grinning like a madman.

"Would I be correct to assume, Seth," Belle forced a strong, polite tone to her voice as she returned her gaze to him; she _was_ scared, but didn't want to admit it in front of everyone, "that these Valkyries are on their way?"

Seth looked up, and Belle's chest caught when she noticed how, on that occasion, he steadily held her gaze.

"They never _left."_

Three shadows moved across the room, cast by the eerie moonlight streaming through the frosted-glass windows. Belle turned a split second before an explosion threw shattered glass across the room, and threw her rifle up just in time to protect her face from the shards, just as three figures dressed as black as the night swung in from ropes, the middle one's boots finding McKenzie's chest and kicking him across the room. "Blink!" Linsey shrieked as he slid over the floor and came to a stop on the lowest step of the dais, eyes closed and out cold.

It kicked Belle into action. She brought her rifle up and aimed at the closest Valkyrie, who laughed as she responded by reaching behind her back and pulling out something Belle least expected - an _axe._ Breathing out, she squeezed the trigger and let fly with a blue stun bolt - only to see it impact her chest and have _no effect,_ not even to slow her down. She fired twice more and felt her heart freeze as it was presented with the same result - or lack of. She glanced at the other two, one wielding twin escrima sticks and the other... a bow and arrows... and saw the bolts of blue from her teammates hit and do _nothing_. The arrow sent back at Jules, however, worked perfectly; it hit her in the shoulder, causing her to violently convulse like she was the recipient of a vicious electric shock.

They were terrifying. Black trench coats that reached their knees, and hoods that covered their heads. Masks that covered their faces, a rounded triangle over their mouths, rectangular visors over their eyes, and matt black body armor of what looked like pure shadow. Belle's eyes shot back just as a name tag poked out from under the coat of the one advancing on her - Viking.

"Hand-to-hand!" she found the strength to yell.

Viking struck. She swung the axe in a wide, one-handed diagonal arc. Belle fluidly stepped to the left, hearing a whistle as the blade narrowly missed her shoulder, and countered by jabbing the butt of the rifle into Viking's face. Hissing, the Valkyrie staggered away, giving Belle the time to toss the rifle aside and draw _Rosepetal_ from her belt.

She believed combat should be a last resort, but if push comes to shove, then it should be conducted with as much speed, grace, and respect as possible. So, she whipped the sword vertically up in front of her face, saluting her enemy. Viking yelled something unintelligible but likely rude and curled her arm around her chest for a powerful swing that Belle jumped back and parried away. Conserving her momentum, Viking then spun around with the heavy weapon in a wide arc - dangerous, but predictable, which Belle then proved by ducking the swing and countering it with her arm across her chest to diagonally slice across Viking's back, swivelling on her heel and administering another steel bite from her rapier across the taller woman's lower back. Arching her spine and shrieking, Viking's hand went to her wounds - they were only shallow, the trench coat and body armour having taken the brunt of the swing, but Belle knew it would be enough to scar.

For a moment, Belle felt the rush of impending victory... which betrayed and left her when a dozen shadows slipped across the her vision. She looked up at the windows and felt a slash of fear across her chest when clone after clone climbed through and opened fire.

She caught sight of the third attacker, the one with the bow. The one with an arrow pointed right at her. Her heart stilled.

She felt hands force her away, and her world went sideways.

Chest met floor like a concrete punch, temporarily knocking the wind out of her. Glass and stone cut into her hands, releasing tiny droplets of blood that mingled with the dust kicked up in the melee. She clawed her hands into fists and, wincing heavily, forced herself onto her back - and time seemed to crawl.

Seth's eyes were wide as he stared down at her, arms open as his body violently spasmed, indiscernible howls of pain trying to force themselves through teeth fused shut by a locked jaw. Her breath shuddered as she watched him fall to his knees, eyes imploring her to do the only word he managed to say. "R-r-r-r-rrrrunnn!"

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his upper body joined his knees to jerk and shudder on the ground. A thin arrow protruded from his back, held in place by three vicious claws.

She glanced over at the scene. Linsey, holding the escrima sticks of the second Valkyrie at bay with a tonfa across her forearm whilst shooting arcs of electricity into the clone onslaught. Aziz, face contorted with rage, holding the throat of a maskless clone, whose skin went black as the life was drained from him. Melanie firing shot after shot, dropping soldier after soldier. Dwight, pushing a clone away only to grab him and yank him into a clothesline.

Against the three of them? Victory was possible. Three Valkyries and a dozen or more clones? Retreat was inevitable. She sucked in a breath, and yelled, "Fall back!"

Linsey was the first to respond, by pushing the Valkyrie away and ensuring she stayed away with a back kick to the chest, before ducking her head down to dodge pulse bolt fire while she joined Melanie's retreat. Viking, her attention on Belle regained, turned and drew her axe over her shoulder, pommel pointed at Belle's head. Whether she would split her skull or knock her out with the pommel, Belle neither knew nor cared as she rolled to the right a second before the axe's pommel hit concrete. So it _was_ non-lethal, then.

She didn't have time to reflect further, not that there was any time in the first place - Aziz had attempted to come to her defense. As soon as the _tang_ of metal hitting concrete spread around the room, he ducked low and tackled Viking in her right side. Deprived of her hands, the axe clattered to the ground. "What the hell are you sticking around for?!" he yelled just as his opponent impacted the wall behind her with a cry of pain.

Belle's brain engaged and kicked her body into gear. She scrambled to her feet, picking up her discarded _Rosepetal_ and sprinted to the door, turning back just in time to see Dwight charge after them…

... and to see Aziz's advantage be flipped on him in an instant.

His hands lunged for Viking's neck, the spitting fury on his face a screaming sign he wanted to drain the life from her. Her own hands shot up and gripped his wrists. With his right leg arched as he pushed as hard as he could, it looked like two titans grappling - until Viking's masked head surged forward and slammed into Aziz's face with a sickening thud. Paralysed, Belle watched in horror as he staggered back, dazed, hands covering his nose to stem the blood spewing forth. Viking advanced, striding forth with all the wrath and relentlessness Unity had to offer. Aziz attempted a wild right haymaker, one she effortlessly countered with an upper left parry and a knife-hand to the throat. Staggering back, Aziz rasped something akin to a shriek of pain, his hands revealing his crimson liquid nose as one went to protect his throat while the other dropped to support his collapse to his knees.

Viking stood there, waiting. She even warned her teammates and clones to not intervene with a simple wave of the hand.

Aziz's eyes cleared. Cheeks bulging with each wet cough, he valiantly pushed himself to his feet, glaring pure fire at the axe-less woman. His feet scraped against the ground, launching him into a wild sprint toward her. Belle couldn't think why. It was _obvious._ He was telegraphing his intent. Maybe he knew he had no chance, but was still trying regardless, even though it was _clear_ Viking was the superior combatant.

Which she then proved, ruthlessly and humiliatingly, by grabbing his throat with her left hand, belt with her right and using his respectable momentum against him by carrying him up and over her shoulders to slam him to the ground with fluidic grace. To add insult to injury, she released him only to draw back her trench coat, pull a stun pistol from her thigh, and coldly put a single blue bolt into his chest.

It was at that moment Viking looked up.

Belle ran.

* * *

_**IV. Diamonds** _

One by one, the Furies fell.

Dwight was the first. Melanie had the idea of escaping to the roof, reasoning that as the Valkyries roped down from there, it wasn't likely they would expect them to flee in that direction. As soon as they rounded the corner into the stairwell where signs pointed to an emergency exit to the roof, however, Dwight's eyes had taken on a look of resignation mixed with resolve. One second of Belle looking into his eyes was all it took for her to understand - he was going to buy them some time. So, after silently yelling at them to run, he closed the stairwell door behind them.

And for the first time in months, he spoke. Two words, muffled by the closed door and maze-like corridors - " _Fuck you!"_

He held onto the last word as long as he could, and as she raced up the stairs with Melanie and Linsey, Belle pictured in her mind the effect on the soldiers - collapsing to their knees with their hands around their ears whilst blood seeped out thanks to ruptured vessels caving under the sonic assault. She could still hear him as they reached the emergency exit, and it was when his baritone scream abruptly ended that she realised he had fallen. Ostensibly, the Valkyries came prepared.

Melanie fell soon afterwards, thanks to a pulse bolt to the head whilst Belle and Linsey worked to unclip the Valkyries' ropes from the safety rail and re-clip them at the other end of the roof. Linsey, screaming bloody murder, abandoned her rope and poured all the juice she had into her fingertips, letting loose wide arcs of lightning that tore into the flesh of clones but were absorbed harmlessly by the bodysuits the Valkyries wore.

Belle could remember how her heart raced to the point of a near heart-attack, while she looped the rope around the topmost steel bar. She could remember how Seth said there were _four_ Valkyries, yet they only fought three. She could remember Linsey's last words before she charged into the fray - " _You get to our ship, you haul ass out of here, and you get on the horn to the Star. You tell 'em what happened here. They need to know what's coming. Don't stop for nothing. Not even me."_

As she sprinted through the well-trodden path toward the clearing where the _Charles de Gaulle_ idled inactive, her chest screaming with a sharp pain across her diaphragm derived from pushing herself well past the point of fatigue, she stumbled over an errant root and went flying. Her world went topsy-turvy as she rolled across the damp ground, her mind successfully completing a set of loop-the-loops. Pain shot through a multitude of patches on her arms and chest, causing a loud yell to escape her mouth, and as she came to a stop on her back, her vision slowly stopped spinning to settle on a gloriously beautiful night sky. Diamonds etched in a veil of shadow, framed by the leaves high above her.

She panted, her body refusing to allow her to continue - however the longer she stayed there on her back, the more those pants turned to whimpers, and then turned to cries. Her brows knitted together and her eyes screwed shut. Her right hand moved to cover her mouth and choked sobs left her lips only to crash against her fingers. Yet, there was no such protection against her tears, which fell in a stream from the corners of her eyes and slid down her temples. Liquid grief that carried within the knowledge that in the space of a single hour, someone decided she would never see her team again.

Her right hand left her mouth to cover her eyes, releasing the strangled sobs into the world.

She was the last of the Furies.

* * *

_**V. The Snow Queen** _

Belle only gave herself a minute to grieve before she forced herself to stand, but that minute was enough. She had a job to do, and nothing else mattered. Warn the Ghosts and the Spirits about the new team. Their weapons. Capabilities. Tactics. Give them enough so that if they ever met the Valkyries again, they would be prepared.

She trudged on through the forest path, snapped branches crunching under each step she took. Her mind repeated Linsey's last words over and over again while her eyes focused on the gap in the trees ahead, fuel to keep her tired strides going, and distracting her from the ultimate question - where was the fourth Valkyrie?

It was a question answered as soon as she stepped over a particularly thick root and ducked a low-hanging branch, pushing it aside as she went under it. She straightened up and uttered a sigh of relief at the knowledge she had just passed the forest boundary into the clearing.

Relief that became dread - illuminated by the ethereal moonglow ten yards away, her legs at shoulder width, her black coat absorbing all forms of light, with her masked head turned toward her, stood the fourth Valkyrie. Belle sucked in a shaky breath, feeling fear trickle down her spine. She had been waiting for her.

Instinctively, Belle's head turned left and right. Her eyes checked the blanket of black surrounding them, with moonlit trees like ripples in the fabric.

"There's no-one here," the Valkyrie called out, in a voice that sounded oddly distorted. "No-one but you and I."

Belle studied her from the corners of her eyes. Strange, that this enemy would be in such a place, alone. She was confident, arrogant, or foolhardy. Maybe all three. "How do I know?" she called back.

The Valkyrie didn't move an inch. "I need answers, and soldiers would deprive me of them."

Belle considered her options. There was no real way she could run - she was tired, hurting, weak, and even if she _did,_ there was no guarantee she would be able to hide. Especially with a Valkyrie who probably was fully rested and combat ready. She turned to look behind her, eyes searching for movement. There was none.

So, with one hand resting on _Rosepetal,_ Belle strode into the clearing toward the waiting Valkyrie. As she approached, the moonlight rested on something in her hand, something long, black and metallic. Judging by the sparkle and glimmer at the very end, it was a _blade._ "Would I be correct in presuming, mademoiselle, that you are called Snow Queen?" It was obvious to Belle that the outcome of their encounter had already been decided by the drawn weapon. Her hand tightened around _Rosepetal's_ handle.

"You are correct."

Snow Queen's head followed Belle's movements as she stopped to stand in front of her, six feet apart.

"What answers do you want?"

The mask lifted an inch. "I want to know where I can find the one you call Frost."

Belle narrowed her eyes and summoned the ghost of a smile to her lips. "Why? Did one of his pranks go too far? It's _something_ bad, n'est pas?"

"He and his team are responsible for the deaths of my parents," Snow Queen said in a distorted voice close to a snarl.

"Ah," Belle said as though in receipt of a mild epiphany. "That would about do it."

Snow Queen raised her blade. Belle's legs automatically went into a defensive posture; right foot ahead, left foot behind, and her eyes glanced down to the blade pointed at her face. "Tell me where he is, and you can go free. I will not pursue you."

Belle's eyebrows rose, and she adopted an expression of mock-consideration. Channeling a particular Ghost's penchant for insincerity, her right index finger moved up to tap at her chin. "Oh, well - that _is_ a kind offer. Truly. Such generosity is appreciated…" Belle's hand fell, along with her expression into cold resolve. "... when it is _sincere."_

_Then_ the Valkyrie moved. Stiffened, as though affronted. "Excuse me?"

"If your overture of mercy was heartfelt, I would have believed you. Unfortunately, you have a blade pointed at my face, leading me to the conclusion you are full of as much deceit as the regime you serve. So, I don't think I will tell you. I will not betray my friends."

Snow Queen huffed. Her body rotated on the balls of her right foot, keeping the blade immaculately straight whilst her left hand moved up to grip the handle. "I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation, Beauty."

"Ah, _mais je fais_ , but I do. I understand clearly. I am here, my ship is over there... and you?"

Praying that her second wind would linger, Belle slowly drew _Rosepetal,_ slow enough for the blade to scrape against the metal rim of its sheathe. She drew it vertically across her face, then whipped it down parallel to her right leg.

"You are in my way."

"So be it," said Snow Queen, and lunged.

Belle swung _Rosepetal_ to parry the stab, and revolved around her as the momentum carried Snow Queen past. Recovering quickly, Snow Queen pulled one hand away from her handle and administered a series of quick swings to the right of Belle's chest, the left side of her neck and drew back to lunge for her heart, each one quickly parried as she backed away with the final strike held well out of danger. Snow Queen hit the blade aside and quickly revolved to aim a decapitating spin for the neck. Belle ducked the swing and lunged for her abdomen, which was sidestepped.

Snow Queen, quicker than Belle expected, regained the advantage by bringing her sword above her head and swinging down for Belle's skull. In the nick of time, _Rosepetal_ blocked the strike, however with the advantage of still being stood, Snow Queen could put her entire upper body strength into the handle of her blade. Gritting her teeth with the effort, Belle's eyes glanced up at the middle of Snow Queen's weapon, and glimpsed an engraved word.

Frostpiercer.

Her right arm was losing strength. The crossed blades lowered. A few more seconds, and her defense would give; either her own sword would be driven into her face, or she would be forced to move and permanently lose the advantage. She needed a distraction.

Thinking quickly, in a single breath her free hand went down to her thigh holster and pulled out her stun pistol. She pointed it at Snow Queen's face and, fully aware that it would do nothing, fired shot after shot into the goggles. The Valkyrie screeched and threw up a hand to cover her eyes - sure, she wasn't unconscious, but she was backing away and losing ground. Belle scrambled to her feet and darted toward her, throwing rapid strike after strike at every weak spot that Snow Queen barely blocked, parry or dodge. Neck, collarbone, chest, hip, knee, there was no part of the Valkyrie's anatomy that did not become a target.

Yet, the Valkyrie was fast, Belle thought. So very fast. One strike became a second which then became a third, fluidly chained together as though they were one single attack. Even as she lost ground, backing away with remarkable surefootedness to avoid Belle's swings, flicks and lunges, her defense was strong enough to deflect every single swing - and riposte more than a few, too. The clang of metal upon metal echoed through the night air to fill the deserted clearing, reminding the Fury of those old pirate stories her father told her as a child. Tales of bravery and derring-do, with ultra-fast swordsmanship and thrilling battles.

Snow Queen aimed a diagonal strike at Belle's lower spine. It was obvious and easily countered by flicking _Rosepetal_ over her head to block the strike behind her. She carried Snow Queen's momentum by pulling the rapier up and back to her front, allowing _Frostpiercer_ to slide down to the hilt, and as soon as the black blade was well out of danger, she sidestepped toward the Valkyrie and applied a vicious elbow into her face. Capitalising on how her enemy staggered back with a pained shriek, Belle flicked her wrist and sent _Rosepetal's_ very tip across Snow Queen's forearm. It yielded another cry and the added effect of _Frostpiercer_ tumbling from its owner's grasp.

A final kick, delivered by a graceful twirl on the balls of her left foot and back kick to the chest, and Snow Queen fell to the ground with a pained yell. Belle ensured her victory by standing over her and aiming the tip of her blade at her neck.

"You have skill, Snow Queen. Your technique is good, your form fluid," she said. "However…"

Belle rose her free hand and slowly clenched her fist. In response, dozens of thick roots burst through the damp soil and wrapped themselves around Snow Queen's wrists and ankles before diving back into the ground whence they came. Natural restraints that their prisoner struggled and snarled against. Satisfied she was no longer a threat, Belle slid her rapier back into its sheath.

"... you lack experience."

Voices echoed through the air, yelled words carried by the breeze, calling for her downed opponent. Belle's heart shot into her throat. "It seems I am out of time," she said breathlessly, eyes lingering on the forest path. "I am sorry to hear about your parents, but know this," she turned her head back to Snow Queen, "Frost is _not_ responsible. Don't throw your life away on a misguided crusade for vengeance. It will _consume_ you."

* * *

_**VI. They Are the Valkyries** _

The _Charles de Gaulle_ travelled at a steady speed of three hundred miles an hour though it had only been in the air for half of that. Still, it was enough of a head start away from the settlement, and the disastrous conflict it saw. However, whatever had been jamming her comms was still affecting them - if the young Hamada boy had piggybacked their archaic radio comms on the Unity signals like he bragged to anyone that would listen, then it could only mean Unity was jamming the entire zone.

"Beauty to base, over," she said for the fiftieth time, muttering quiet curses in French to herself when, for the fiftieth time, all she received was static. Sighing, she distracted herself by checking the various dials and meters on the dashboard, ensuring her flight was straight and steady. The fuel cell percentage was good, too - around sixty-eight percent. With a satisfied _hm,_ she looked up at the intangible sensor interface, a circular map surrounding the _Charles_ that detected and tracked nearby aircraft whether hostile or friendly, with blue dots for the latter and red for the former. As it had been since take-off, religious glances at the interface had led her to notice a faint red dot appear at the bottom for a split second, and then disappear. She lost count of how many times she had ordered the ship's A.I. to bring up a rear view, only to notice nothing but darkness. No red and green lights flashing with metronomic regularity. Nothing but night sky.

Her eyes lingered on the sensor screen for a few more seconds, enough for the faint red pulse to appear and then disappear as quickly as it came. The taut tension in her stomach refused to abate.

A soft beep emanated from the console ahead - an sign she had just flown over the zone's boundary. "Beauty to base, come in, s'il vous plaît _,"_ she called out again over the radio. "Please work," she whispered to herself. "Please…"

Her pleas were answered as a rough crackle over the comms system in her earpiece, and then a voice. Not just any voice. Harvester's. " _Base responding, over."_

The breath she had been holding ever since the crackling started came out in a loud but supremely relieved sigh. "Harvester! Oh, thank the heavens. I was beginning to think I would have to knock on the door."

" _Copy that - we've been trying to raise you on the comms for over two hours, but you weren't responding. What the hell happened?"_

Belle's smile dropped like a stone, along with her eyes to numbly gaze at the altimeter in the middle of her console. The faces of her team-members floated one by one into her mind's eye, and soon it became a herculean effort to breathe, let alone hold back her tears.

"It was a trap," she murmured. "Unity was waiting for us." She forced her eyes shut, too late to stop a tear from escaping down her left cheek. "My team is gone."

Kristoff's voice came back in a soft breath. " _All of them?"_

"Every single one. I am the only one left."

" _My God…"_ Kristoff murmured. " _How? What happened over there?"_

Belle licked her lips, and forced herself to swallow down the lump in her throat, given that the more she thought of the catastrophic ambush, the more difficult it was to even speak a syllable. "Ogre needs to hear this, too, as the leader of the Spirits. Once he's on the line, I will explain what I know."

Kristoff indicated his agreement and yelled at someone to fetch Shrek. Waiting patiently, Belle stared out into the black sky whilst clouds passed by like tufts of fluff. She glanced back to the sensor screen, where the red pulse appeared and disappeared once again, seconds before the unmistakeable light Scottish lilt belonging to Shrek joined them on the comms.

" _This is Ogre,"_ he said somewhat brusquely. Evidently he had been woken up. Rule number ninety-nine - _never_ wake Shrek unless it's important, lest you be the victim of a punch or a horrific attack of flatulence.

" _We're ready, Beauty,"_ said Kristoff.

Belle took a deep breath to focus her mind and push away the grief, to take things one step at a time. That moment was the entire point of Linsey's sacrifice, so she knew she needed to be quick but concise. Efficient, and informative. "Here is what happened," she began.

She told them everything. From the moment they landed to the second Kristoff finally answered her communications, no stone was left unturned. Seth's betrayal and sacrifice, Aziz's conflict with Viking, and how the scouts were displayed like it was theatre. Kristoff and Shrek both remained mute as they listened, nary a response of _uh-huh_ or utterance of shock left their mouths.

" _And these four women are responsible, these... what didja call 'em? Vol-au-vents?"_ Shrek said.

"Valkyries," Belle corrected him. "Yes, they are responsible."

" _What can you tell us of them?"_ Kristoff asked.

"They are highly trained, they are strong and they are fast. Well-equipped, too - one uses a bow with some kind of taser arrows, another uses those batons Streak seems to like so much. Their strongest one uses an axe, and she is called Viking."

Shrek asked, " _And the last one?"_

"Snow Queen," Belle answered without missing a beat. "I assume she is their leader. She wields a sword, and her proficiency with it is astonishing. Aside from myself and Frost, I have seen no one as skilled in their weapon as she. Captains," she addressed them, "these Valkyries are driven, they are ruthless, and they thought nothing of leaving scouts as bait for us, or threatening an Archon's family. Whoever these women are, they pose the greatest threat to our survival we have ever seen."

" _Copy that,"_ Kristoff said, and Belle noticed he had gained a measure of confidence back in his voice. " _Ogre and I will work on a counter-attack-"_

Belle cut him off, eager to add the final bit of information. "There's one more thing. Their leader Snow Queen has a personal vendetta. She said she wants-"

The rest of Belle's sentence disappeared in her throat when three different warning alarms were set off simultaneously, crazed _whoops_ that deafened her besides making her start.

_Warning. Proximity alert. Hostile target lock. Warning. Proximity alert. Hostile target lock._

Belle's eyes shot over to the sensor screen and felt her heart join her stomach on the floor. The red dot that had been hanging around at the cusp of her sensor range had sneaked halfway inside it - and what sent a lightning strike of horror through her entire being was the thin white glimmer of something leaving the dot and charging toward the _Charles._

"Merde!" she hissed.

" _What? What's happening over there?!"_ Kristoff yelled.

"I have a hostile craft on my six, they've locked onto me and are deploying missiles! Five seconds to impact!" She shouted back, closely watching the screen through the corner of her eye.

She counted down in her mind. Five. Four. Three.

Two. She wrenched the stick to the left. The _Charles_ went into a nauseatingly sharp roll, hard enough for Belle to temporarily become horizontal. Stomach lurching, she heard the _whooosh_ of the missile as it zoomed past, a yellow jet and white trail the only clue of its direction - thankfully, _not_ into the side of her ship.

Eyes dancing between the screen and the cockpit windshield, Belle attempted to keep track of the white line on the sensor interface and the yellow glimmer in the sky ahead whilst she levelled off, and puzzled worry took residence in the back of her mind when she noticed how the red dot was still keeping a healthy distance.

The yellow glimmer disappeared, and the white line circled around. Her breath caught in her throat, and her ears automatically shut out the worried yells of her colleagues.

_Three seconds to impact._

Belle forced the stick down.

It was too late.

A resounding _boom_ reverberated throughout the air, filling the cockpit with amber light and the sound of metal being ruptured, as the _Charles_ rocked like it had been punched in the back. Shrieking, Belle was violently jostled by the impact with such force that the back of her head slammed against the seat, hard enough to leave one hell of a bruise. Damage alarms joined the cacophonous noise, screaming at her.

The ship's AI added itself far too calmly to the noise as the _Charles'_ nose dipped, its previously steady flight gone in favour of turbulent rocking and shaking.

_Damage sustained to dorsal hull. Power system compromised. Propulsion offline. Weapons offline._

" _Beauty! What happened!"_ Shrek yelled.

"I've been hit!" she shouted back, her voice squeezed by her stomach and lungs trying to vacate the premises through her throat, thanks to the horrid shift in inertia. "I've lost power, I'm going down!"

The _Charles_ continued its rapid descent to earth. Pushed back into her seat, but almost weightless due to gravity's pull on the ship, Belle reached up to the two levers above her head, yanked them both and punched the blue button in the middle - and immediately felt the effect of the air brakes on the four wings and the emergency thrusters as the ship started to slow and level off. She gritted her teeth together and pulled back on the stick with all her might, the groaning of the metal straining against the planet's relentless pull filling her ears.

For the briefest moment, in a fleeting morbid thought, she wished the Spirits had gotten hold of some parachutes when they were last in Unity territory.

The altimeter counted down and down. Belle closed her eyes.

The _Charles_ slammed into the earth like a carefully-controlled meteor. Soil and grass flew into the air in a cascade, churned up as the drop ship carved a wide gash into the ground. The shift in speed from the nose to the tailplane caused the entire craft to fishtail, and then launch into a roll that tore away the port wing and crushed it under the fuselage. The starboard wing joined its comrade a second later, and deprived of its 'arms', the _Charles_ rolled until, finally, it came to rest on its ventral hull, dents, slashes and two wounds where its wings used to be.

* * *

_**VII. Nimrod** _

" _Beauty! Beauty! Come in, please!"_

Belle's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, over and over again. Lolled to the left, her head was spinning, like someone had tied her to the _Star's_ propellor blades and set them going. Slowly, her sight came back to her, though her ears rang like bells. The haze in her vision receded, sharpening it and revealing what was left of her cockpit dashboard, a shattered windshield and crumpled metal window frames.

" _Base to Beauty, please respond!"_

Her lungs spasmed, coughs ripping through her throat, turning it ablaze. Groaning, she raised a lead-heavy hand to the throbbing ache on the side of her head, and winced when her fingers contacted the mess of crimson matting itself with her brunette hair. She couldn't be sure, but she _thought_ that was where her head impacted the inner hull during the first roll - especially since she blacked out after that.

" _For the love of all things holy, Beauty, respond!"_

"I'm…" she found herself murmuring though her brain gave no such command, "I'm here…"

" _Oh, thank fuck for that! Are you okay?"_

Slowly, with a haze of lightheadedness, she attempted to move her head - and was promptly punished for her transgression courtesy of a shooting pain in her neck. However, she could still feel her feet and fingers, and her muscles were still responding to basic commands - so the realisation that her neck was not broken was great comfort.

"I... could use a hot shower…" she murmured, "and a little aspirin…"

" _We've got plenty of that back home,"_ Kristoff said, sounding thoroughly relieved. " _Scout Team Red is inbound, they'll be thirty minutes. Evac is coming - just hang tight."_

"Acknowledged," Belle said, hoarse. "I…"

It was when she lamely fumbled for the pilot's safety harness, unclipped it and tried to rise that a white hot pain shot through her abdomen like a bolt of lightning. Crying out with the pain, her right hand darted over as though to protect it - and immediately felt the warm touch of liquid on her palm and fingers. When she frowned and pulled her hand away, she saw the unmistakable shine of blood. She looked down at her stomach, and a whimper escaped her lips when she noticed how her entire abdomen was glistening with the crimson substance.

The realisation hit her like an _Odin_ tank, chasing away the optimism and leaving behind resignation and inevitability. It explained the woozy sensation, and the encroaching weakness in her limbs - a gut wound. She was probably bleeding out. "Harvester?"

" _What's up?"_

"I…" she murmured weakly, "I... don't think Scout Team Red will arrive in time…"

Kristoff sounded audibly worried. " _What?"_

Belle closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose and out of her mouth to prepare herself. What she was about to do would be excruciating, but she would be damned if she was going to remain stuck in the ship.

"If this was a story," she said, grunting with the shocks of pain, "then the brave heroine has been mortally wounded."

Covering her stomach with her left hand, applying as much pressure as her strength and the agonising pain would allow, she screamed through clenched teeth as she pushed herself up with her right hand using the right armrest, her face screwed together with both effort and hurt.

Kristoff kept calling her through her earpiece. He could wait for a moment, she decided, at least until she got outside. Using the back of the pilot's chair for support, and then the rigging attached to the ceiling, Belle forced her weak and unsteady legs onward, feet clumping heavily on the metal floor. Ahead lay the embarkation ramp, half-torn away by the crash landing, the opening providing the half-literal light at the end of the tunnel. Moonlight. Grunting with pain and effort, Belle staggered onwards through the unexpectedly long passenger hold until she gingerly lowered herself out of the _Charles_ and onto the soft ground.

Every second that passed, every movement she made only exacerbated her growing dizziness and drained her of her strength. Gripping onto the ramp's frame, she whimpered as she swung herself round to rest her back against the starboard side of the fuselage - and her legs, performing admirably up to that point, gave up the last of their strength. She slid to the ground, panting heavily, sucking in each limited breath whilst the wound screamed fire through her nerves.

All of them except her legs - she had lost feeling in them.

"Harvester," she said, once her breathing had slowed down - though she had to work for every lungful, "please, find Pitch. I would like to talk to him."

" _I'm already here, Beauty. Harvester told me what happened."_

Belle smiled. Her head lolled against the metal hull. "Ah, good. I... wanted to apologise."

Kozmotis' reply was vehement, but as his friend, Belle easily detected the tremble in his voice. " _You have nothing to be sorry for."_

" _Mais je fais,"_ she said regretfully, her breathing becoming more labored, " _Je suis désolé, mon ami._ You see... I am afraid I won't be there for our book discussion tomorrow…"

" _Don't say that."_

"It is the truth. _C'est la vie._ But... could you do... something for me?"

" _Anything."_

"That piece of music... what was it called?" she asked. It was getting tougher to stay conscious, let alone speak. Her body was weakening by the second.

" _Nimrod, by Edward Elgar."_

"Could... could you... play it for me? It truly is beautiful..."

Kozmotis obliged, and it was mere seconds before the opening bars of Nimrod swam through the connection to grace her ears. It helped her to focus, even as she began to fade. She tried to hum along with the music.

Slowly, her right hand crept up to retrieve the rose from her breast pocket, and with a faint smile she admired its beauty. Such a pretty flower, the rose. Her favourite.

"I... am rather sleepy, Kozmotis. I think... I th... think... I will sleep... just for a little while," she said breathlessly, as her mind lost its focus and clouded with a soft, sweet haze.

Kozmotis panicked. At least, his version of it. " _No, no, no, you don't. You stay with me. Flynn is coming."_

"It's okay, old friend."

" _No. It's not. You stay with me. Beauty, focus! Tell me something! Talk to me - tell me about your father!"_ he practically shouted.

Belle smiled widely as she looked up from the rose at a man stood before her. Short and rotund, with snow white hair and thick moustache, black eyebrows and a cheeky glint in his eyes, he smiled down on her, and offered his hand.

"But Pitch... he's... right... here…" she whispered.

Nimrod reached its crescendo as her body failed her, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Her arm dropped to the ground, and the rose tumbled from her fingertips.

* * *

_**VIII. Adieu** _

"Belle."

Kozmotis called her name over and over.

"Belle."

Hunched over with his hands, gripping the back of his chair with white knuckles, he stared at the spinning compact disc in his music player.

"Belle."

A male voice answered his repeated call, and he stiffened bolt upright. Flynn Rider.

" _She's gone. I'm so sorry."_

Kozmotis let out a shuddering breath, feeling what was possibly the only light in his heart fade and extinguish. Legs giving way, he collapsed back on to the edge of his bed, and buried his forehead in his hands.

For the second time that day, liquid emotion slipped from his right eye and traced a long, wet line to his chin.

Only, this time…

"These are real, Belle," he whispered, "These are real."

_**Fin.** _

**Author's Note:**

> The first of two pre/midquel spinoffs. My French is rusty, so I had to Google Translate for Belle's dialogue. I probably got it wrong - and I apologise if I have.
> 
> This is what I've been up to - I started the next chapter of OGaV, but Ghost Angel's question had been banging around my mind for so long that I had to get it down, and this is the result. I am going to stipulate that Kozmotis and Belle were in no way romantically involved, but they were good friends. For the duel between Belle and Elsa, I was full-on picturing your swashbuckling movies like PotC, hence "He's a Pirate". I have to say, Belle has been one of my favourite characters to write so far.
> 
> I hope I got Belle's characterisation right within the realms of the main story - I haven't seen Beauty and the Beast for some time.
> 
> Finally, I put this in the RotG/Frozen subsection because even though it's technically Beauty and the Beast/Frozen or Beauty and the Beast/RotG, it is still a part of the OGaV world.


End file.
